


a letter: sent, received, ignored

by stag_von_simp



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Drama Queen Ferdinand, Dramatic Diction, Ferdinand Tranferred to the Blue Lions, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, First Person Point of View?, Friendship, Letters, M/M, Posted on Tumblr first, Romance, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22177564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stag_von_simp/pseuds/stag_von_simp
Summary: ferdinand has abandoned the man he loved, and he does not regret it.the best he can do to atone for this is write a letter--whether it's read or not.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	a letter: sent, received, ignored

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!!
> 
> so i wrote this over a month ago, probably, and haven't looked at it much since. it was fairly successful on tumblr, so i though, why not post it here??? enjoy :D

***

Dearest Hubert,

I feel as though this letter is overdue. Even penning it now, as I am, I wonder if it is too late for this to mean a thing to you. I wonder if you remember me at all. 

But of course you do–I may be a lot of things, but I am not the forgettable sort, as you reminded me so many times, annoyance creasing your face despite the smile rippling in your eyes. (You did not think I caught the smile, but I did. It may not have been a crashing wave, but I like to think I saw every little creature that swam within your depths, that recoiled from the light and nestled deeper into your monochrome comfort. I saw it all, and I loved it all, and I still do, I fear. And I am sorry, Hubert.)

Still, I am doubting this letter. It may be evident in my penmanship–you will see the occasional loop out of place in it. You will know my hands were trembling, you incessant genius. 

But I intend to finish it, even if I must awaken familiar pain. 

I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you are still safe. And I hope you do not feel lonely. 

I hope your days are full of warmth, unlike my own.

Do not think for a second I am complaining; I am not. Warmth is no longer vital when joy ventilates your very blood. And I am happy, I believe. I can feel it kindling in my stomach at all hours, keeping my bones from becoming ice and shattering like it beneath the vacuum gaping in my chest.

That chasm you once occupied. It is even icier than the Kingdom’s climate, but now is not the time to talk about that. Do not fret, though; I will fade into whining about missing you soon enough. Just weather the details for now, love.

In Faerghus, the brittle winds never cease in chasing their tails through the air. No matter how many layers you drape across your shoulders, the cold finds a way to soak your skin nonetheless. Your every effort is in utter vain. 

But I like it here. The cold in the air is a stark contrast to the warmth in every smile–the heat in every pair of interlaced fingers, a furnace of love in every corner of every building, a fire in every soldier’s eyes. I like sharing my flame with everyone else. I like agreeing, and I like never feeling the urge to dwindle in the dark of everyone else’s hopelessness.

That is why I left the Empire, Hubert; that is why I left you. Because every pair of feet that walked by stomped, and tried to stomp out my spark.

Here, my spark is ever-needed and ever-appreciated. Here, it is loaned to every other flame that may splutter. Here, I am never ridiculed, never ignored. It is a scarce kindness, one I never met in the Empire.

That is not to say you went unseen or unnoticed to me, of course. Your every embrace breathed life into my soul. But here…everybody does it for everybody.

I am starting to believe this is the world Fodlan needs–perhaps not what we deserve, but certainly what is in order. A world where kindness lurks in every corner, no secrets, no phantoms. Even the king is warm of heart and generous of disposition. And you always spat upon his name. You always called him ghastly, revolting.

I did the same,

We are blind men, Hubert, you and I. Especially you, I must say. You are the one who does not dare let yourself see freedom, even when it dances before you, stripped bare of pretense and deception in a world where every word is polluted by such things. I wish you would adjust the lens through which you see. I wish you would glue the shards of your vision back together. 

I wish you would join me here.

I firmly believe in charity, and every corner of Faerghus teems with it. Sure, there are the shadowed villages–the tragic children, the lonely, desperate, sick, sad men and women–but everyone is tragic, no matter where you go. Every person you meet will be tainted by lonesomeness, starved with desperation, ill at ease or choked with worry. There is no perfect place…but Faerghus is somewhere that tries to disprove this and comes fairly close, at least in my experience.

There is King Dimitri, but there are others. There is positively precious little Ashe, with his books and his spirit and his grin. There is Mercedes, who glows with kindness, and Annette, iridescent with life. There is ambitious Ingrid, author of her own destiny, and there is Dedue, whose selflessness knows no bounds, whose altruism extends its unending wingspan and swallows everything it brushes. And there are Felix and Sylvain, who I am not quite sure about just yet. But when they are together, they are always scuffling, bickering and tossing their claws in all directions, dropping winks and insults, and I think they are great friends, and I can admire friendship.

And you would loathe all of them. And Edelgard may not mind Ingrid, but the rest, she would loathe, too. She would say they were not talented enough to serve her once her utopia began taking shape. But then, she scarcely believed I was up to par with her demands, and that simply means she must lower her expectations or soften her heart.

I miss you, Hubert. But if you miss me too, you need to catch me with your own hands. I am never going back. After all, a free bird will never return to his cage without making a mighty racket about it. I am now a free bird.

No longer must I take the post that my father chose to let define me. Now I define myself. And I wish we could define ourselves together, Hubert, I really do, and every time I think about you, it is like my chest is torn open anew. 

But you cannot ask a free bird to become a captive again.

All you can do is free yourself.

Come to Faerghus. Or do not. Do as you wish, my dear. Know that you were always my shady corner in scorching heat, my peaceful darkness in a galaxy of searing light. You need to find a balance between the sun and the shadows, my dear. You helped me do such a thing for myself. 

I am sorry I cannot teach you to love the light.

But I hope you know I tried. I cannot force your eyes to adjust. I have come to terms with it. It is alright.

But I love you. I love you, I love you. 

Sometimes it is like you were venom in my core. And sometimes it is like you were freedom within the cage, but I do not need freedom within the bars now that I have discovered it outside of them. Now, I have true release. I do not need it fed to me by the spoonful any longer.

At first, it is overwhelming. At first, you would hate it, I think. Your eyes would slit and you would say there is no purpose in a life without a goal carved into stone, assigned and required and necessary. To which, then, I would have agreed with you. But today, I would call you a stupid man, and I would press a kiss to your lips and tell you to give it a chance.

So give it a chance. That is all I can say, my darling.

Yours eternally,

Ferdinand.

***


End file.
